


Casey's Dark Day

by barelyprolific



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: Gen, Grief, Light Angst, Maggie is my favorite and I think we all know this, Mourning, Mysterious backstory, Self-Indulgent, To Continue or Not to Continue: That is the Question, Warning for Cruel Treatment of Donuts, alcohol mention, light fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 14:29:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20027329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barelyprolific/pseuds/barelyprolific
Summary: “So why does Parker take this day off?”“He never told me why. Just asked me to do it. I trade shifts with Taryn and Dahlia all the time. Casey wants one day, once a year.”





	Casey's Dark Day

**Author's Note:**

> I found this in my drafts, and I had forgotten I wrote it, ha. I don't know if I ever posted this on tumblr or not.

“Good morning, Dr. Pierce.”

The words are expected, but the voice is wrong. Maggie looks up from the screen of her tablet, frowning.

“Where’s Parker?”

“‘Good morning, Dr. Schmitt,’” Schmitt mimics her under his breath, sighs. “He’s out. We traded shifts. Donut?” 

He holds up a pink box that Maggie eyes for a moment before looking back down at her tablet.

“Maybe later. Is he okay?”

“What?” Schmitt pulls out a maple-glazed donut, sets the box down on the table. He studies the donut for a few seconds before taking a bite.

“Parker. Is he okay?”

Schmitt shrugs, swallows. “No idea. All I know is that he asked me to cover for him, on this date. For the second year in a row.”

Maggie looks up at him again, eyes narrowing. “The _ second _ year in a row?”

“Yep.” Schmitt leans against the desk. “We traded intern year too. I got almost an entire weekend off out of it.” 

“How do you remember that it was the same date?” 

Again, Schmitt shrugs. “Someone owes you a favor, you make sure you write it down. This year this is getting me a getaway with my boyfriend.” 

Polishing off his donut, Levi opens the box again, examining the contents before deciding against it and closing it. 

“So why does Parker take this day off?”

Schmitt shrugs again. It’s starting to get a little annoying. Maggie rolls her chair closer, opening the box and snatching up a chocolate donut. 

“He never told me why. Just asked me to do it. I trade shifts with Taryn and Dahlia all the time. Casey wants one day, once a year.”

“So you just don’t ask? What kind of friend are you?” Maggie stands up, brushing the crumbs of her devoured donut from her fingers. 

“The kind that knows which of his friends appreciate having their privacy respected.”

“Well, that’s just--” Maggie cuts herself off, struggling to find a word, before she settles on, “_Stupid_. Friends are supposed to confide in each other.”

“Oh, we confide,” Schmitt says, giving Maggie a pointed look. She doesn’t appreciate the implication. “Parker tells me things when he’s ready to.”

Maggie glares. Saying anything would be admitting something she’s not quite ready to, though, so instead she directs her glare down at her tablet. After a few tense moments of silence, she snatches up the box of donuts and starts towards the door. 

“Keep an eye on the intern. We have Klein today and she’s a mess.” 

“She’s not that bad.”

Maggie points at him. “No projecting.”

“Where are you going? You have a surgery at four. I was up all night studying Parker’s notes for it!”

“And Parker spent six weeks making those notes! He’s not skipping this surgery.”

Maggie shuts the door on Schmitt’s protests. He stares at it for a moment. 

She took his donuts.

Someone is knocking at his door. Casey groans, set down his third Bloody Mary of the morning. Whoever it is, he’s pretty sure he told them he wants to be left alone, because he told everyone he wants to be left alone today.

Flopping sideways onto the couch, Casey pulls a blanket over his head, closes his eyes. If he holds still, whoever it is--probably Taryn in a misguided attempt to forcefully cheer him up--will eventually go away. Then he can go back to drinking and watching crap t.v. 

Crap, the t.v. Casey reaches out, fumbling for the remote, presses the power button. The t.v. snaps off. Immediately afterwards, the knocking stops.

“You know, hearing the t.v. turn off doesn’t exactly convince me you’re not home. Parker! Open up!”

That’s not Helm’s voice. Casey sits up, the blanket falling off him. 

“Look, I don’t know what’s wrong with you,” Maggie is saying through his door. Casey’s heart is pounding, loud and violent against his ribcage. “But whatever it is, you can feel bad about it tomorrow. Today, we have a surgery we’ve prepped six weeks for. Six weeks, Parker.”

Standing up, Casey stumbles towards the door, then stops. His knees feel like gelatin, and he’s worried he’s going to collapse. 

Less alcohol in the next one, he decides. 

Casey makes it to the door, leans against it with his forehead thunking against the wood.

“Dr. Pierce, please go away.”

“No, I’m not to go away. You have a surgery to perform, Parker. And if you couldn’t have performed it today, you should have told me--”

“I couldn’t tell you, and I can’t do the surgery.” Casey sighs, heavy. On the other side of the door, Maggie gets quiet. 

“Why couldn’t you tell me?” She finally asks, voice barely audible through the barrier between them. Casey groans.

“Because then you’d ask questions.”

Maggie sighs, shifts her weight and crosses her arms over her chest. Resists the urge to roll her eyes, presses her lips together tightly instead. Of course she’s going to ask questions if he tells her he can’t do a surgery. That’s kind of her job.

Also, that’s… Why wouldn’t she want to know, if something was wrong?”

“Okay, so… No questions. Come do the surgery.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” Maggie wants to stamp her foot. It’s a childish urge that she barely manages to resist. 

“Because I’m drunk.” 

“It’s not even ten in the morning!” Maggie takes a deep breath, sucking it in sharp. “Parker. Open the door.”

“No.”

“_Casey_.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then Maggie hears the chain move. The bolt slides, and then the door is opening. Casey is standing in front of her in a ratty U.S. Airforce t-shirt and a pair of black sweats. His hair is messy, dark circles under red-rimmed eyes.

For a second Maggie’s mouth is too dry to speak. 

“I am fine, Dr. Pierce.” Casey’s hand is gripping the door like he’s about to slam it shut again. Maggie’s not about to let that happen; she steps into the apartment, shouldering past him, and looks around. 

It’s dark, the blinds closed, just a single lamp in the corner of the living room casting a low orange glow. Clean, although there’s not much to clean. Everything is tucked into a spot, but Casey obviously still lives with military minimalism. Then her eyes land on the coffee table, which is littered with everything necessary for a Bloody Mary or several.

“I prefer mimosas, myself,” she says, lightly, turning around to look at Casey, still standing in the open door. 

“Champagne is for celebrations.”

“And this is a funeral.”

Casey doesn’t say anything. Gesturing around herself, Maggie continues. 

“So you didn’t want to come to work because you’re mourning someone. Schmitt says this is an annual thing for you.”

“It’s the anniversary of a death,” Casey finally says, low, back ramrod straight but his eyes anywhere but on Maggie. 

“I’m not asking.” Maggie steps closer to him. Casey’s throat bobs as he swallows, still avoiding her gaze. “I said I wouldn’t ask.”

“Then why come inside?” Finally, Casey drags his eyes to meet Maggie’s. “This is above and beyond an attending’s duties.” 

Maggie snorts. 

“Please, at this hospital? You’re lucky I made it out of there by myself.”

Unwillingly, her words make Casey’s lips twitch. It’s gone so fast Maggie thinks she might have made it up. 

“I’m guessing you didn’t tell any of my friends you were coming over.”

“No.” Maggie looks down at her hands, then laughs. “I stole Schmitt’s donuts and then forgot them in the car.”

That earns her an actual chuckle, and Maggie feels oddly proud of herself. “Should I go get them?”

“No,” Casey shakes his head. “I was going to make pancakes in a little while.”

“You are way too drunk to make pancakes,” Maggie protests. “I’m going to go get the donuts. Don’t lock me out.”

The look Casey’s giving her makes Maggie’s stomach feel warm with a heat her cheeks match. She glances at the coffee table to distract herself, wrinkles her nose. 

“You can clean up that mess while I’m gone, too. Maybe put on some coffee.”

“I can’t operate today, Maggie.”

Her breath catches. Maggie nods slowly. 

“You can come and sit in the gallery and watch, though. With your friends.” 

“I really just want…” Casey sighs, nods too. “Fine.”

Maggie smiles. Just briefly, she allows herself to reach up and skim her fingertips over Casey’s cheek. When she moves to drop her hand, Casey catches her wrist.

“Thank you.” 

“Of course,” Maggie replies, meeting Casey’s eyes. She means it. 

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I do know who Casey is grieving for. The question is, do you want to? Let me know!


End file.
